


If We Love || Langst

by HomuraEveryDayOtaku



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, Depression, Feels, Home Depot, Insecurities, Langst, Maybe - Freeform, Modern AU, One Shot, Sad, Suicide Attempt, Voltron, Whump, did you really think i would do it?, keith kogane - Freeform, lance mcclain - Freeform, vld, yeaaaaaa, yt video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomuraEveryDayOtaku/pseuds/HomuraEveryDayOtaku
Summary: Every small detail matters, every look and display of a person, every word missed or said. It matter.





	If We Love || Langst

Lance, the old Lance, the happy Lance, the bright, smiling, laughing, the gone Lance. The happy voice, the normal imaginary friend was replaced by a dark, unsettling, negative parasite.

If you looked close enough, you would think he looked mind controlled. His face was glazed over, his eyes were puffed and red, he looked…emotionless.

It talked to him, pretended to be a friend, promised to make him happy, but…it slowly was chipping away at him. Every day a new thing to chip at.Soon, there would be nothing left to chip away.

Lance was walking out of a Home Depot with a bag of rope, which is what the voice told him to buy of course.

The voice repeatedly told him how awful he looked today, and how he’s an eye sore, maybe would be better off dead, so he listened.

Just before Lance was about to come to a stop in front of his car, and eventually finish the job at home, a certain boy with black hair and poisonous violet eyes stopped him.

“Hey,” Lance turned around, same glazed expression focused on a more lively one. “ Sorry to bother you…it’s-it’s just that shirt…my dad would always wear that shirt. You look good.”

“Thanks.” For a moment, just one, it seemed the dark voice faded away just to let him give the boy a genuine, small, smile.  
“Again, sorry for the bother. Have a nice day!” They shared smiles before going separate ways.

The voice was back, but…not as strong. Lance sat in his car, just thinking, letting the voice take course again. Looking at the rope in the bag, grazing his fingers over the steering wheel, taking it all in like it’s the last time.

—————

Lance sat in his window sill. Taking it all in for a few moments. Until the little voice whispered ‘It’s time…’

Lance looked at the bag of rope, no emotions could be read even if you studied him for hours. Lance got up.

A chair from the dining room was placed in the middle of his room below a ceiling fan.

He wrote a note: Dear Mom, I love you. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.

Lance ripped it out of the journal he was writing it in and placed it on the table next to the front door.

Finally was the rope. It was tied just enough to fit his head inside and tight enough not to come loose. One end was for a head, the other was tied to the base of the fan right above the chair.

‘We don’t have all day now do we…?’

Lance stepped onto the chair, and put his head through the loop.

He looked down, and slowly inches toward the end of the chair. The fight against tears was lost with no struggle.

‘Why hesitate..?’

He looked at himself through the mirror on the other side of his room

‘See? You’re an eyesore..’

A flash a black locks crossed Lance’s mind. More tears and sniffles, muffled sobs.

“‘Sorry to bother you’”

The sobs became a bit louder.

“‘You look good’”

He inched closer to the edge, but the sobs were full.

‘Are you sure?’ a different voice. He moved a single foot back, but gazed over the chair.

“‘ ..would always wear that shirt.’”

He placed his foot at the back of the chair. Was it to push away, or the regret?

It was an almost endless cycle of the same dialogue from the Home Depot parking lot. Inching closer to the edge of the chair, inching back. Sobs was the only noise that filled the sickingly silence of the house.

‘Are you sure?’ Flashes of tying the rope, writing the note. Where did the dark voice go? He wouldn’t know. It was a fight of words in the mind.

“‘You look good’”

Lance with shaking hands, a face covered in tears, still flowing, lifted the rope above his head and fell to the floor. Leaving the rope to dangle above the chair.

He just cried and cried on the floor in front of the chair.

Someone came walking into the house, but he didn’t know, everything else was drowned by thoughts and tears.

His mom.

His mom picked up the note from the table and read. After the last word, looking very concerned at Lance’s closed bedroom door. Jogging over and stopping for just a moment in front of the door, before slowly opening it to her son. On the ground, crying, crouched, head in hands.

She slowly sat next to him and inched closer, wrapping her arms around him. She looked at the empty rope and chair then back to Lance. Tears burning her eyes.

She hugged him trying to conceal him from all bad things in the world, muffling his cries, and they stayed like that.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope your heart is broken and repaired sort of...? Please follow my Tumblr and Instagram if you can!! My Name is "homura-draws" Meaning, yes, I draw and do fan fiction. Got to give myself that self inspiration.
> 
> For anyone who wants the video: https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F1aLeYLRrW3U&t=YzkyYTkyZjJjY2FjMDI4MWZlZjg3ZTEwYzQyNmFmMTBjY2YwZjQyMSxiNmI0MWU5OTY2MTYwZTA3ZjFmZDZlNDNiZDI1NGQzZmEzNjk1ZTY0
> 
> And honestly, anything you say can change anyone's life, so please, be aware.


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